Goodbye Stranger
by Karrah Aretz
Summary: IaHB/Highlander crossover. Don't ask, it just kinda came. *note to self: no more all-nighters with the Clan MacLeod...*


Goodbye Stranger  
By Maureen   
  
Music and Lyrics by Super Tramp, story by me, Maureen, Jamie Waite, Catie Roth and Brooke Linear (Michaels) are owned by Disney, the immortals are owned by Rysher and Anita Laurel, Gabriel Richard, Jason Zane, Monica Catherine and Nathaniel Edward are mine. I have no money so don't sue. No profit is being made anyways.  
  
***  
  
2023  
  
James Waite stood in the nondescript parking lot watching the sunrise. He needed to shave. He was dressed as he usually was, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, old and torn, the red letters nearly faded away, but if a person looked closely it said 'I see dumb people'. His shoes too were scuffed and dirty, the leather sturdy, made to be lived in, but even the toughest leather should not have to take the beating they were routinely subjected too. His leather jacket too, was old and worn, one in a succession of jackets. The only part of him that showed how much money he truly had was his bike. His Harley. Not some knock-off or a garage kit to be built by an amateur, but a genuine Harley-Davidson. The expensive kind.  
  
He saw the sunrise almost every day, out on the road. He had become an early riser over the years, but could last for nearly 48 hours without sleep. His body was accustomed to being active at odd hours and had even come to expect it. James had little routine beyond brushing his teeth after whatever meal he dubbed 'breakfast' and 'dinner'.  
  
He liked it, although it made it difficult to maintain friendships. That was fine by him; he had always been a bit of an outcast and loner. True, he was closer to his current friends than anyone else in his entire life, but he rarely saw them. Ever since…no. He wasn't going to think about it. Damn.   
  
Ever since Mac had gone crazy they had stayed away from each other, communicating only through emails and even those were few and far between. Having to almost kill your friend dampens the relationship, even if it was only in self-defense. And he didn't kill him, not permanently.   
  
It was an early morning yesterday  
I was up before the dawn  
And I really have enjoyed my stay   
But I must be moving on   
  
He mounted his bike, preparing to head over to the cracker barrel he knew was a few miles down the road for breakfast. One of the few times he would be eating the proper meal at the proper time. After that…well, who knew what he would do that day? He had no more job, no home, his most cherished or needed possessions were with him, either in his pockets or in the two bags he had taken with him. Live long, live hard, travel light. That was his motto.  
  
Breakfast was a much more elaborate affair than he had planned, involving pancakes with fruit, never ending coffee and the waitress' phone number. Not that he'd call her, in the age where no one was ever disconnected from everyone else, he carried no cell phone, no pager, only a laptop that needed the battery to be charged.  
  
He headed out once again, substantially fuller, his appetite sated. "On the road again…" he sang tunelessly to himself, watching as a family of four gave him wide berth. He wasn't going to pick their pockets for gods sakes! He was merely scruffy! A ragamuffin. A bum.   
  
At least until he had a reason to be otherwise.   
  
Like a king without a castle   
Like a queen without a throne   
I'm an early morning lover   
And I must be moving on   
  
He wasn't really paying attention to where he was headed, knowing that he would find a place eventually and make it his home for a while. He was a transient being, never staying for more than a decade in any one place. Of course, this wasn't so much by choice as necessity. Like not having a predictable routine. Too easy then for a certain someone who-shall-remain-nameless to track him. And maybe kill him.  
  
James did not want to die. He wanted to go home. Well, the only home he had ever truly known. As fate would have it, or perhaps it was merely the subconscious desire to go there, the sign for Kingsport, Virginia flashed by him. James paid it no notice.  
  
Until he rode straight passed Kingsport High School. The now aging building, in the same red clay bricks with blue trim, had been expanded, a completely new floor added on top. Kingsport High School.   
  
Now I believe in what you say   
Is the undisputed truth   
But I have to have things my own way   
To keep me in my youth   
  
What the hell, he thought, ignoring one of the cardinal rules he had been taught years ago, 'you do not go home within the first lifetime'. He pulled into an empty parking space and dismounted. At least I look like I should.   
  
Inside it looked the same…but when had they added the metal detectors at the door? They had obviously renovated, but not so it was obvious. "May I help you?" a voice asked, a secretary.  
  
"Um…can I get a visitor pass?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. Now he really felt out of place.   
  
"Reason?" she asked.  
  
"I used to go here," he replied, hoping he wouldn't ask for his class. It would be difficult to explain why a 17-year-old guy was claiming to be the class of 2002.  
  
"Here you go," she said, giving him a button. "Keep this with you at all times and turn it in when you leave," she instructed. It was a miniature-tracking device, he wasn't fooled. Security had been systematically tightened ever since the school massacres in the late 20th century/early 21st century.   
  
The bell rang for classes to change and students clad in the blue pants and skirts, white oxford shirts and orange blazers with the cobra on them poured into the hallways, joking and laughing amongst themselves.   
  
Was I ever this young? This carefree? James wondered. And when did they adopt uniforms? Of course, he realized, only a few years after I graduated. These kids don't know a life without a school uniform of some sort.   
  
Jamie wandered the hallways, looking for anything familiar. The teachers names were posted on every door, all names he did not recognize. Not that he expected to. He had been away for so long. Roth. Shit. He walked back to the door. Sure enough, it said 'C. Roth: English IV AD & H/AP'. Most of the glass in the window was covered, preventing the principals from checking up on what she was doing, but a corner was coming off.   
  
James contorted his body so he could peek through the small gap…it was Catie. Fuck. Now what? She hadn't seen him, he could leave, pretend he was never here. But what was she doing as a teacher? C'mon! She was destined for greatness, not for…teaching. James shuddered when he thought the last word.   
  
As he leaned against the wall, contemplating what to do, instead of hightailing it out of there like any reasonable person, the door opened. Catie stepped out. She saw him. Too late to run. Nowhere to run. Oh…was he in big trouble. Please, someone arrest me, he thought.  
  
"What are you doing out of uni-" she trailed off, eyes widening as she recognized him. "Jamie?" she asked.  
  
"Hi, Catie," he said smoothing, as if he normally lurked outside of her classroom. "Miss me?"  
  
She slapped him. Not the reaction he expected.  
  
Like a ship without an anchor   
Like a slave without a chain   
Just the thought of those sweet ladies   
Sends a shiver through my veins   
  
"I want answers mister!" she demanded. "But I have to finished teaching class. I'm making sure you don't run away though, you can sit in."  
  
Well, that ended that plan. As wimpy as running was, it was his favorite plan in the three seconds he had tried to think of one. He meekly followed her into the classroom, sitting at her desk, lounging as though it was his idea.   
  
She was…old, he realized. Then again, so are you, he reminded himself. Her hair was still long, nearly to her waist, but the once silky black hair was now more salt than pepper even though she was only…39 was it? Yes, he was 38.   
  
Her clothes were trendy and she took care of her body, but it didn't hide that she had gained at least 10 more pounds. Black pants, black and gray sweater, expertly applied makeup. On her shirt was a broach, at first James couldn't figure out what it was, but on closer inspection he realized it was a frog. A gold and emerald frog. She must have married a rich man, he thought, that isn't something bought on a teachers salary. Then why her maiden name?  
  
She droned on and on about 1984. Themes and symbols. What did the rats mean, who was big brother, the same questions he had answered when he was in high school. Although, she did help make it more interesting. Or maybe it was just the cute way her butt wiggled. It had to be her butt, he had hated the book.  
  
Finally lunch came. "How can you teach the same lesson over and over every day?" James asked, avoiding the real questions that he knew were coming.   
  
She ignored him. "Where have you been for the past twenty years?"  
  
"Around." Generalities. Stick to generalities. Part of his brain kept repeating over and over while the other part reminded him that this was Catie and she wouldn't take any crap. "Mostly in Washington State and Canada." And Alaska…  
  
"Why did you leave?"  
  
"You look good," he told her. And it was true, she did.   
  
"Answer the question. You just left," he mouth drawn into a firm line, the one that only teachers can do.  
  
"I had my reasons." Maybe she'll take the hint.  
  
"Enlighten me, James."  
  
Then again… "Not here, not now. Tonight? Dinner?" that's it, he thought, charm her. Make her see you as the boy she had a crush on in school. "If your husband doesn't mind."  
  
"Fine. 7:00 at Benihana's. And I'm widowed," she left 'you should have been there' unsaid. She didn't need to say it.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault. He was shot on a business trip, a psycho shot up the office building."  
  
"In Toronto?" of course, it was Toronto, that's the only office shooting since Atlanta! Then it was partially his fault. He was one of the paramedics there. He could have bagged him…or worse, left him for dead while he tended to another person that had a greater chance of survival.  
  
"Yeah." She responded dully. "Do you have any kids?"   
  
"No," he replied, not sure if this was the best change in subject. He was sterile.  
  
"I have five. I didn't want a big family, but Dave, he did. And I could never say no to him…not that I'm complaining, I love them."  
  
Kids began to trickle back into the room. Awkwardly James stood up, begging her leave. His immediate thought was to leave Kingsport, get back on is bike and go, never to return. This was a mistake. Deep in his heart he knew though, he couldn't. Not again. He could rationalize the first time he left, but now? No, now he was just being chicken, running around with his head cut off.  
  
Sighing, he tossed his visitors button at the receptionist before heading to the holiday inn. At the very least he could look decent for tonight. He knew that the madness would overtake him eventually, but he thought that he had centuries before it happened yet he was seriously going to meet Caitlin Roth for dinner. The madness must be hitting him earlier than anyone imagined.  
  
And I will go on shining   
Shining like brand new   
I'll never look behind me   
My troubles will be few   
  
James waited, pun intended, outside Benihana's, and looking more like the debonair playboy he had been for a while than the scruffy ne'er-do-well he was more familiar with. Catie drove up in a black BMW, still dressed for school. At least now they looked like they belonged together. Amazing how simply wearing black can dress a person up.   
  
"When did you stop being a Goth?" he asked by way of greeting.   
  
"After college. The look wasn't helping me get jobs. Although, I hope I don't look like a teacher." She said. It was like talking to a stranger, small talk, never quite sure what to say, what will or won't offend.   
  
"Never. If you had been wearing frumpy teachers clothes, I would have had to get you something decent."  
  
"Like you have money?" she asked, pointedly. She drove a BMW; he had a leather jacket that was barely holding together at the seams.   
  
"I have enough," he held the door open for her, "amazing what you can do with the stock market."  
  
Since it was the middle of the week, they did not have to wait for a table, and in fact, were able to get one by themselves. Usually at Benihana's several couples, whether they knew each other or not, were placed at a table.  
  
After a cursory glance at the menu and the appropriate oohing and aahhing at the chef while he made their suppers right in front of them, they began what James had begun to call 'the second inquisition'.   
  
"Talk." Catie ordered.  
  
"Do you still go by 'Catie' or is it 'Caitlin' now?"  
  
"Irrelevant. Why did you leave?" her eyes burned with fire. She was not going to make this easy.  
  
"Gods…not here. My hotel room after dinner." Catie glared at him. "I promise."  
  
"What will you tell me here?"  
  
"I moved to Seacouver, Washington when I left. I spent only a few months there, living with a guy a few years older than me, and working as an EMT. But circumstances, which I will go into later, forced me to leave. I went to Anchorage after that, worked some more as an EMT, became an EMT-I. I didn't go to school, but I learned a lot. After about five years I went to Juneau and to the University of Alaska. I have a degree in kinesthetic science."  
  
"Kinesthetic science?" Catie questioned.   
  
"Physical therapy."  
  
"Left Juneau and went over to Toronto after that, worked as an EMT and I went into New York sometimes. Mostly, I've been hopping from city to city every five or so years as a paramedic now. Don't even use my degree."  
  
"No wife?"  
  
"Nope. I keep in touch with my friends through emails."  
  
"So none of us from high school are your friends. I get it."  
  
"No, I still think of all of you as my friends…but…I never should have stopped here." James paid the check, his Visa Platinum card shocking Catie. "Follow me to the Holiday Inn?"  
  
Goodbye stranger it's been nice   
Hope you find your paradise   
Tried to see your point of view   
Hope your dreams will all come true   
  
As soon as they were in the room, door closed, Catie began again to demand the truth. James reached under the side of the bed, pulling out a sword, old but well cared for. "I'm immortal." He told her simply.  
  
"I'm not some half-wit James Waite!" she snapped, offended and scared by his sword and far-fetched explanation.  
  
"Watch." He drew the tip of the sword across his hand, blood welling up instantly at the finely sharpened instrument. A few seconds later, he took a towel and wiped his hand clean. No more blood, no more cut. Not even a scar.  
  
"How?" Catie asked softly.  
  
"I told you, I'm immortal. I can't die. Well, not permanently. I don't grow old. My hair will never gray. That's why I had to leave."  
  
"You could have told us!" once Catie had managed to regain her breath from the shock, she became her fiery self. She should have been born a redhead to match her temper and lust for life.  
  
"I couldn't! There's this game, we have to kill each other until there is only one left. And the other immortals train the younger ones. The longer I stay around people I love, the easier it is for them to get hurt or kidnapped…or worse. I couldn't let that happen to you!"  
  
"You never gave me a choice! And who says you have to play the game?"  
  
"Everyone else. You don't play, you die. Immortals can kill one another," no sense telling her how to kill immortals, she might try it on him if she gets mad enough, "That's why I had to leave Seacouver. A very powerful immortal went crazy, killing everyone, mortal and immortal. I couldn't stop him, I, along with other less-powerful immortals ran, letting the more powerful ones stop his rampage."  
  
"So that's it. You're a permanent teenager. How old are you physically? I'm almost old enough to be your mother. Hell, my oldest is 11!"  
  
"Physically I'm seventeen, I left Kingsport the summer after it happened but came back for my senior year. I've missed you."  
  
Immediately she softened some, her eyes melting, "I've missed you too, Jamie. It is still Jamie?"  
  
"Yeah. It's still Jamie." Or Nicholas, or Paul or Kurt or whatever he felt like calling himself. Switching identities almost as often as underwear. He left the sword on the far side of the bed before going over to hug her. They stayed in the embrace, not talking, not fighting, until Catie said she had to leave. Papers to grade.  
  
"Can I meet your kids?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"This is Anita, Gabriel, Jason, Monica and Nathaniel. Kids, this is Jamie."  
  
Like well-trained dogs, they answered "Hi Jamie" in a chorus. Had to marvel at modern parenting.   
  
After the kids had run back upstairs to play, Jamie asked, "Hey. Catie, I'm surprised, no Winter, Agony or Desdemona's?"  
  
Catie sighed, smiling. "Anita Laurel, Gabriel Richard, Jason Zane, Monica Catherine and Nathaniel Edward. Got me."  
  
"Vampires and werewolves? You sick, sick woman." Things were rapidly reverting to when they were teenagers. Teasing and banter.   
  
"I like vampires. And I'm surprised you recognized them."  
  
"I've read Laurel K. Hamilton too."  
  
Catie's eyebrows rose a notch. "You read? I'm shocked."  
  
"In that case I had better not shock you anymore, I have an entire library of books in storage. Not all are mine, but I am keeping them until the owner claims them. Only things I can never get rid of, my books."  
  
Catie stiffened, remember how he 'got rid' of her. "Good night James, I have work to do."  
  
Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane   
Will we ever meet again?   
Feel no sorrow, feel no shame   
Come tomorrow, feel no pain   
  
The ride back to the Holiday Inn was a strange mix of happiness, sadness and sheer terror. On one hand, he was happy to see his Catie, happy to be in the only place he had ever truly called 'home'. On the other, he was still not used to being immortal, had not accepted that he would never have a child of his own or that he would be forced to watch idly while those he loved got older and eventually died. And on the third hand…or should that be foot? he was worried that the game would follow him here, endangering everyone.   
  
Flashback 2000  
"C'mon Jamie! You can do better than that!" Richie taunted the newer immortal as he blocked attack after attack with the wooden practice swords. Like Richie, Jamie was more street-punk than swordsman and was having a difficult time breaking the habit of trying to use the sword like an oversized knife.   
  
"Oh, I don't know Richie, I think he might be hopeless. We should just take his head and save him the trouble of trying to use a sword." Adam Pierson, aka Methos, replied drolly in his mock-English accent from where he leaned against the wall next to Conner MacLeod.   
  
Richie was nearly six years older than Jamie, yet they looked like contemporaries, forever teenagers, while Adam appeared to be in his mid to late twenties. He was really closer to 5000 years old, the oldest immortal still alive; he was no more English than any other nationality. Conner was from Scotland, the older of the two immortal MacLeod clansmen. He preferred not to speak.  
  
"It's only my second day trying to get this stuff, I will not lose my head to some old fogy who was around when dinosaurs roamed the earth!" Jamie grunted, trying to parry and being easily blocked by Richie.  
  
"I am not that old, infant," Adam sniffed, secretly pleased that Jamie would insult him. Although only a small handful of immortals knew that he was Methos, he, convinced that he knew the secrets of the universe and should be treated like Buddha or the Dalai Lama, intimidated many. A smaller few knew the truth that Methos was a sarcastic, loose-limbed man, who enjoyed beer if someone else paid and good comedies. He lived in the 'now' not in the 'then'.   
  
A minute later they all felt the buzz that signaled to immortals that another one of their kind was approaching. Richie immediately picked up his sword, a French rapier, as did Methos, an Ivanhoe. Jamie shrunk to the background, unable to defend himself even if he knew how to use a sword.   
  
Mac walked into the dojo that he in fact owned, his katana drawn. Something was different about him, Jamie couldn't really put his finger on it, and he really didn't know the older man well enough. All he really knew of Duncan MacLeod was that he was one of the most powerful immortals on the planet and only about 400 years old, fairly young by immortal standards. Richie was his adopted son.  
  
"Jamie," Adam said softly, "run. Get out of the city now."  
  
Jamie turned and ran, diving out of the second story window, not even paying attention to his cuts and bruises. Something in Methos' voice petrified him to the core of his being, his voice like ice and his eyes colder still. He jumped on his motorcycle, parked next to Richie's and headed straight to the apartment he was sharing with Richie.   
  
In his rearview mirror he saw the lights of a Quickening, an immortal death. Without thinking he grabbed a few things and was headed out of the city, not even sure he knew where he was going. He road that entire summer, headed back to Kingsport to finish high school. He would find someone new to teach him when that was over.  
  
Two weeks later he had received and email from Richie. "Conner is dead, Mac is insane. Adam has taken him to a place where he cannot harm himself or others and is looking after him until the madness passes. I will be at your station before you graduate HS, be there. - Rich"  
  
His first true 'introduction' to the game, an event that haunted nearly every immortal in America, perhaps on the planet. The great Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod killing his clansmen and mentor, Conner and going insane.  
  
Jamie lay in bed, only half watching Conan O'Brien. Richie had "graduated" Jamie a few years later when he successfully took another immortals Quickening in a fight. He didn't like to "take heads" like other immortals said, that sounded too much like murder for the paramedic in him. So he told himself he "took Quickenings" instead. It was a simple case of semantics, but it made him feel better.  
  
Now some they do and some they don't   
And some you just can't tell   
And some they will and some they won't   
With some it's just as well   
  
The next morning came all too soon. Jamie awoke to someone pounding incessantly on the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called out, padding over to the door, clad only in boxer shorts. He cracked the door open, chain still on. "What?"  
  
"Jamie?" a woman asked, not quiet believing her eyes.   
  
"Yeah?" he asked, not recognizing the woman before him. She was perhaps 5'6"; brown hair styled to look professional, business suit. He didn't know anyone who wore business suits.   
  
"Jamie Waite?" the woman asked, making sure he was the correct Jamie.  
  
"Yeah?" he replied again, getting annoyed, "who're you?"  
  
"Brooke. Brooke Michaels. You knew me when I was - "  
  
Jamie cut her off, "Brooke Linear." He closed the door on her, reopening it a second later without the chain on the door. "You look good, come on in. I'd offer you something, but I don't think I have anything but instant coffee."  
  
"I'm fine. Catie called last night, said you were here. I didn't believe her though, yet here you are."  
  
"Where are the others? Val, Tyler, Hank…your little boy friend?"  
  
"Val is in Richmond working as a pediatrician, Tyler went into the Peace Corps and last I heard was in Nicaragua or some such hellhole patching people up and Hank actually switched to administration and works at Mt. Sinai in New York as the business administrator. And I lost touch with Nick."  
  
"Wow. So many different places. What about you?"  
  
"I got married almost ten years ago, and I run the EMT station now that Alex left. He moved to Chicago to take care of his parents. What have you been up to?"  
  
Jamie gave Brooke the shortened version of where he had been, getting dressed as he told it. He left out the parts about immortals and the game. "I'm actually leaving now, so I'll see you around."  
  
"No! You can't leave! You just got here!" Brooke had learned how to command people with her voice, it was so weird talking to a grown up Brooke Linear (Michaels), she was supposed to be twelve! "We have an opening at the station if you want it. We can even squeeze enough money out of the budget to pay you a paramedics salary."  
  
"Brooke, I can't."  
  
"Yes, you can! Catie said you didn't have a home or a job or anything. And Kingsport will always be your home! Okay, you look like you're seventeen. I'm not blind. I'm not asking. Catie said you looked the same and not to say anything, well, I am. I don't care. You're qualified, you need the job and we need someone who needs both. Perfect match."  
  
Jamie plopped down on the unmade bed. Live in Kingsport; be close to many of his old friends. He'd have to tell them what had happened, but he knew that they would all know once Catie knew. He may have pretended like it wasn't true, but it was. It was what he subconsciously wanted. To be accepted, not to hide. To go home. Richie would kill him when he found out.  
  
Oh well.  
  
"Alright, you talked me into it. When do I start?" Jamie smiled.  
  
You can laugh at my behavior   
That'll never bother me   
Say the devil is my savior   
But I don't pay no heed   
  
Life soon fell into a routine, seeing Catie at night on the weekends and working the grueling 24hr shifts during the week. Jamie was in heaven. He had not felt any other immortals in the two months he had been living in Kingsport and had even talked to his old friends on the phone. Val was trying to find time to come down to visit him, but so far had not been able too. He was glad about that, he really didn't want to see her.  
  
He had falsified documents saying he was 24, making it believable that he could be a paramedic, yet still explain why he looked so young. The kids he worked with were great; treating him more as a big brother than the adult he was supposed to be. And if anyone saw his sword in his locker, they did not comment.  
  
He lounged in the common room when he felt the buzz. Pretending like nothing important was happening, Jamie headed to the other room to get his sword, a Kriss. It was long and thin, the blade slightly wavy, it worked well for him although it was a pain to conceal in his trench coat. With a slight sigh he shrugged the duster on over his uniform and slipped the Kriss inside the hidden pocket.  
  
Cassandra stood in the common room. "Cassandra!" Jamie said formally, surprised. He had thought it was someone coming for his Quickening.  
  
"James." Cassandra replied, equally formally. She had an air of formality, of regality surrounding her. A person was automatically polite. "There can be only one."  
  
"Yeah, but… not here." Her opening phrase caught him off guard. He had never formally met Cassandra before, but he knew that she only cared about hurting Methos. Killing him would not cause Methos to lose any sleep. He hadn't even spoken to him since he had left Seacouver that fateful day.  
  
"Tonight. 6:00pm, the clearing outside of town." With a swish of her skirt she left the room, leaving a very stunned James Waite and many confused teenagers in her wake.  
  
Jamie left the common room too, heading to the storage closet. He had spent so many hours there as a gofer, it just seemed to call to him. He could think in there.   
  
Cassandra, an immortal that was almost as old as Methos himself, had challenged him. Maybe only a thousand years younger. Why would she challenge him? It made no sense. He wasn't very powerful, wasn't very old. If would make sense for him to challenge her, she was powerful. But she had challenged him. It didn't make sense.  
  
"Jamie?" Brooke asked, sitting down next to him on the cold concrete, "Who was that woman? Why did she come see you?"  
  
"Her name is Cassandra. She wants to kill me, but I don't know why."  
  
"You seem very calm." Brooke observed, not quite sure if he was joking or not.  
  
"It happens. That was why I didn't want to say. It happens a lot sometimes. If I come to work tomorrow it will mean she wasn't successful."  
  
"Don't go. Just don't do whatever it is she wants."  
  
"Then she'll hunt me and go after you and Catie and I can't let that happen."  
"I know you'll do the right thing." Brooke said, rising.  
  
"Yes, mom." Jamie snickered. She was the station mother and drill sergeant, just like always.  
  
Sighing after she left, he pulled out his new cell phone and dialed Richie's number. Richie might be able to explain it.  
  
Richie didn't know. Neither did Adam. Or Amanda.   
  
And I will go on shining   
Shining like brand new   
I'll never look behind me   
My troubles will be few   
  
At 6:00 Jamie stood in the field, his Kriss in hand. Cassandra stood on the other side, her sword in hand as well. "I am Cassandra, former slave mystic to Methos, death on a white horse!" she cried out.  
  
"I am James Waite of Kingsport, Virginia! There can be only one!" Jamie replied, ending the ritual at the beginning of a fight. Neither noticed Catie in the bushed to one side.  
  
The fight started quickly and it was obvious that Jamie was much more proficient with his sword than Cassandra was. She, however, was more skilled in defending herself without using her sword. They were nearly evenly matched. After what seemed like hours, Jamie had maneuvered her to her knees, his blade pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry, I do not want to do this!" he said softly, before taking her head. "There can be only one!" he screamed as the most powerful quickening he had ever felt hit him.  
  
When it was done, he picked up her sword, prepared to send it to Adam to with as he pleased.   
  
"What the hell was that?!" Catie called, emerging from hiding. She had seen it all.   
  
"A Quickening. An immortal death." Jamie replied simply, exhausted.  
  
"You cut her head off!" Catie shrieked, not caring that she sounded seventeen again.  
  
"That's the only way to kill an immortal."   
  
"You murdered her!"   
  
"Would you prefer me to be lying there dead? It was her or me. 'There can be only one'." This was not the time to be arguing this.  
  
"I can't handle this! You're a stranger in my friend's body! I don't want to see you again James!"  
  
"Fine, Caitlin! You can't handle it though?! What about me? I'm the one who has to do it! I wasn't given a choice remember!"  
  
Goodbye stranger it's been nice...  
  
That night Jamie rode away, his Kingsport EMT jacket billowing out behind him. James Waite was dead to Kingsport; it was finally time for him to make his own life where he wanted to.  
  
Goodbye stranger it's been nice ...   
  
  
A/N: 1984 is a novel by George Orwell. It is a wholly depressing and terrifying novel. It is required in 12th grade English. It is also the work of a master author that I respect to no end.  
  
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter is a series of wonderful novels by Laurel K. Hamilton. They're technically horror (necromancy, vampires and the like) but are so well written I forget. Which is a good thing, since I don't like horror.  
  
For all the highlander fans out there, I did not see the episode where Richie died. I am a supporter of the Clan Denial (although not a member), as far as I am concerned, 'I did not see it, it did not happen, Richie is still alive'. Deal.  
  
Mt. Sinai is a HUGE MAJOR hospital in NYC.  
  
Special thanks to Thomas "the Tank Engine" for sword info! 


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